Theater.

Exit, Pursuing A Dream

At Synergy, The Business Overwhelmed The Show

April 02, 1995|By Lawrence Bommer. Special to the Tribune.

Speaking in a Clark Street coffeehouse, producer-director Mark Fritts describes the death-and life-of Synergy Theatre. Across the street a once-sumptuous building, its portal lavishly decorated in Spanish Baroque style, is being smashed by a wrecker's ball.

It is a fitting, if sardonic, backdrop to a cautionary tale.

On Feb. 7 Fritts sent a dignified letter to members of the media. It announced not only the demise of the 8-year-old theater company, but also the closing of the comfortable 96-seat theater that Mark and his wife, Annette Lazzara-Fritts, built in 1986 in a then-undeveloped Wicker Park.

As Fritts' letter put it, despite the theater's struggles, "the support and resources are simply not there," and "just as we made a pledge to high values in our work, that commitment compels us to the fiscally responsible decision to close our doors and our efforts." Fritts offered "everlasting thanks" to those "who witnessed our better moments."

When a dream dies, the loss lingers. Located in a burgeoning artists' community, the Synergy Theatre Center, at 1753 N. Damen Ave., was a great place to see plays-in 1992, a record seven productions-and many were worthy of the space.

According to Chicago theater designer Jacqueline Penrod, who designed the new theater with her husband, Richard, it's an ongoing loss: "Mark is a wonderful director; he and Annette really cared about doing the classics right, never shortchanging an effort even if it meant spending their own money."

Synergy's surprising death raises the question of just how secure our midsized theaters are. The challenge of attracting audiences to a new location and the dilemma of balancing grantsmanship and administrative functions against the imperative of putting drama first are urgent issues for many companies.

The sad lesson the Synergy team gleaned from adversity is that hard work, high hopes and consistent quality aren't always enough.

But in 1989 disillusionment was far in the future. They had no permanent performing space, but "we felt we had a strong vision, a good track record and an idea of what a theater could be," Fritts says. That was proven by Synergy's successful revival of Sam Shepard's "Buried Child" at the Jane Addams Center, followed by a sturdy "The Lion in Winter" at the old Prop Theatre and Arthur Miller's "A View From the Bridge" at Strawdog Theatre's new home.

Perhaps a bit naively, the Frittses believed that if they built a theater, audiences would come. Besides, Fritts adds, "a little bit of naivete can be a plus." The Synergists were lucky to find a landlord whose initial skepticism gave way to admiration for their enthusiasm. "It was something he'd never done," he says.

In 1989 Wicker Park had only two theaters, Latino Chicago's Firehouse and the now-defunct Bomb Shelter. Over the next year, encouraged by Synergy's pioneering step, seven theaters would move into the area.

The Frittses and their friends pulled off a daunting labor of love-five months of heavy-duty theater creation. It seemed as if Synergy had earned its name, thriving on a spirit of cooperation.

Their space, carved out of a recently rehabbed loft warehouse, was a former garage and body shop. To Annette Lazzara-Fritts it appeared a scary mess. "I wept when I saw the disassembled auto body parts, even the remains of a jeep; there were wires, chains and a rotted-out toilet and no doors or entrances," she says.

"With help from our landlord, we cut into the building to make the glass vestibule and put in the risers, stairs and everything else. It became our first home."

Symbolically, the new theater had no offices; to the Frittses a theater exists for actors and audiences. No generic storefront, it was approached from an alley, like a secret entrance to a speakeasy. With the 13-foot ceiling, sight lines were superb. The dressing rooms were comfortable. The friendly lobby provided generous space for artists to exhibit-sometimes even sell-canvases and sculptures.

The first offering was "Of Mice and Men," reflecting the founders' passion for classic theater. For the first three years audiences did come. Typical fare was Fritts' 1992 staging of Eugene Ionesco's "The Lesson," an absorbing effort that reminded one critic of the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill clash on Capitol Hill.